


They're Both Idiots

by sweetHart



Category: Shall We Date?: THE NIFLHEIM+
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, First Time, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 06:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetHart/pseuds/sweetHart
Summary: “Have sex with me,” he had said, no shame. The King’s ambition, like his idiocy, was commendable.His position as Earl came with the privilege to refuse orders such as these, and under normal circumstances he might have. Except Jean had twisted his demand to sound too much like a challenge, and Orlando’s pride had taken offense at that.





	They're Both Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> *crawls out of the earth to dump this here* I'm very sorry to all my subscribers who don't give a shit about this. and the rest of this website too. there are literally no fics for this pairing. it's a dead fandom. oops.
> 
> started off as a WIP I began in 2016 that wouldn't give me peace until I completed it -- so here it is. hope I don't get assassinated for this.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Orlando said, pulling off his shirt. The receding fabric revealed soft pale skin and hardened muscle. He took time to loosely fold the garment before setting it down atop the dresser. 

Orlando drew in a breath. The back of his head was hot with anticipation. Or else it had heated from the gaze of taunting red eyes, intently surveying him from afar. He heard a faint chuckle, before turning around to face its source.

“For someone who says that, you sure seem eager.” Jean smirked.

Jean had stopped shifting around on the bed. He was splayed out on the mattress, arms spread and restrained, legs parted. His upper body was bare. The King’s tan skin and powerful form made a stark contrast with the soft white bed sheets beneath. 

Orlando would admit - the King’s body was beautiful. He lacked nothing -- a perfect canvas of seduction. Niflheim’s prideful Earl couldn’t help feeling a little bit constrained below the waist. A bit of a premature reaction, perhaps, but nevertheless an expected one. Even if it pained the man to acknowledge it.

How had it come to this? Well, - the story wasn’t a long one. Jean had made for himself an unusually promiscuous reputation. While it might have merely caused intrigue elsewhere in the kingdom, the residents of the castle were well aware of this. The King kept a variety of concubines, and took different women to bed every night. And while it hadn’t been a surprise that he would eventually want to dip into the other half of the world’s pleasures, it had startled Orlando when Jean made that specific proposal to him.

Orlando had been irritably busy on that particular morning. He’d just returned from the kitchen, where he had to yell at the staff for placing an irregular order. Really, thirty crates of purple bananas? - the boy who’d miswritten the amount had tasted Hell, but Orlando had half a mind to revise the salaries of the entire kitchen. He had still been fuming when the King came striding down the hall toward him.

“Have sex with me,” he had said, no shame. The King’s ambition, like his idiocy, was commendable. 

Oh, it had been so difficult to placate that initial influx of anger. Orlando’s brow twitched. That was all his exterior allowed, just the slightest slip of expression. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d always prided himself on his manners, which his mère had so carefully cultivated and society greatly admired.

His position as Earl came with the privilege to refuse orders such as these, and under normal circumstances he might have. Except Jean had twisted his demand to sound too much like a challenge, and Orlando’s pride had taken offense at that.

Besides, it could be interesting. Seeing the King stand before him so nonchalantly, with a smirk on his mouth and a hand on his hip, Orlando imagined what it’d be like to push that sneering mouth into the mattress. 

\---

Moving closer, Orlando took a moment to appreciate the King’s toned body, tanned skin, the contrast of dark nipples against his warm complexion, the fine dusting of light hairs on his body. The slightly bolder trail of hair dipping below his waistband…

Orlando leaned forward onto the bed. The weight of his body made a dip in the mattress. Pretending to look particularly scrutinizing, he ran his hand over the ties around Jean’s wrists, his bare arms, across his chest where he brushed against a dark nipple.

Jean’s reaction to this movement was a stuttering breath. Orlando was suddenly overcome with a wave of such intense self-hatred that he had to give himself a moment to just breathe. 

“I-” began Jean. His face bore a look of bewilderment.

Orlando grabbed him swiftly by the hips. “Sssh,” he said. “Let’s see what else you’ll respond to.” 

Spurred by a curiosity which he couldn’t fully explain, Orlando claimed Jean’s lips and let himself do so without inhibitions. Without as much as a second thought. Mouth folded against mouth, wetness and heat and tongues scraping against teeth. 

Jean’s eyelids fell shut, and stayed that way even as Orlando pulled away to look at him. 

“Is that alright?” asked Orlando. His face felt unfathomably warm. “I won’t do it again if you tell me not to.”

“Mmm,” Jean drawled. “I’m fiiine with that.”

Orlando wrapped his hand around the back of Jean’s head and brought their mouths back together. Jean’s hands buckled against his restraints. He made a small, agitated noise. When Jean pushed away to gasp for breath, Orlando pulled him back into the kiss with his tongue.

Jean groaned. Orlando’s pale fingers raked down his sides. He could feel it then: Jean’s hard cock, pressing thick and heavy against his thigh. 

Orlando gave an appreciative hum: now that he was aware of it, Jean’s desire was absolutely impossible to ignore. He laid his hand atop it, feeling its full size before pressing down just hard enough to incite a sharp breath from the man.

“Orlando,” he whispered, his voice like sandpaper. The Earl felt an answering tug, deep within his own abdomen.

He wanted to fuck him. Irrevocably, now that the hunger had overtaken him. It wasn’t like the notion hadn’t occurred to him earlier. In fact, Orlando had almost jokingly entertained the thought before, but unlike those past times the want now stuck to him like an obsession. He only feared the implications which he clearly saw behind those repressed fantasies, and what they meant for his relationship to the King.

Jean had awakened Orlando into Niflheim and the latter had done his duty to the Crown. The power imbalance technically existed, yes, de jure, but hadn’t Orlando always refused to acknowledge it? Wouldn’t it have been hypocritical to invent boundaries now that he’d actively chosen to ignore the existence of any, for centuries.

Jean, for his part, was not in the least resistant. He was no longer able to, as a ruler, think of Orlando as his subject. Perhaps he never had been. They were on equal terms. 

Leaving a wet trail, Jean dragged his tongue across Orlando’s lower lip, panted into his mouth, and pushed himself further into the Earl. His eagerness was concerning. For a moment, Orlando thought his brain would short-circuit when Jean lifted his hips to grind against him. Bucking off the bed awkwardly, Orlando managed to avoid that little stunt, but it angered him all the same. Growling, he sunk his teeth into Jean’s lip and swallowed the responding grunt. Jean writhed under him, and stubbornly kept pushing to take things further.

Orlando was at a loss. He hadn’t imagined Jean would react like this. Not once had he demonstrated hesitation or differential treatment. That was the shocking part. It made no matter that he was a man. Centuries of (albeit questionable) experience had shaped the King into a lethal casanova, and Orlando had no doubt now that Jean could fully make him submit under normal circumstances. Certainly, if his hands weren’t tied-

But Orlando didn’t play like that. He’d never been submissive by nature. And he certainly wasn’t going to relinquish control after establishing it so bluntly to begin with.

Orlando hands skirted upwards, making his fingers dance over the sensitive skin above Jean’s ribs. The latter gasped into his mouth, but didn’t attempt to break away. If anything, their power struggle seemed to spur him on. Orlando couldn’t complain when Jean’s tongue suddenly became that much more aggressive. The heat of their exchange was a stark contrast to the cold of their bodies; and also the reason why sex in the realm of the dead was so enjoyable to begin with. He was so hard.

Warmth spread through his lower abdomen, so violently it threatened to overflow. He shivered, sensation jutting up his spine, fists tightening against the bed. A new opportunity presented itself in the form of Jean’s legs, spread apart on the bed. Orlando pulled back to look into Jean’s eyes as his thigh pushed into the King’s crotch. 

Jean’s low groan was delicious, but his red glowing eyes, falling shut from pleasure, were truly a sight to behold. Orlando kissed that tanned jawline, tracing his tongue down to the dip in Jean’s neck, biting and licking at the reddening skin. His hands clawed across the smooth skin on Jean’s chest, making the man thrash beneath him.

“Fuck,” Jean breathed. “Oh, fuck.”

The Earl gave a playful nudge and Jean’s mouth fell open in a voiceless gasp. He sucked in a breath that seemed to catch in his throat. 

(It was both exciting and a little scary how much the sight of Jean’s o-mouth aroused him.)

Orlando had to wonder if it would be better to retain a professional attitude about this. 

“Have you reconsidered yet?” he asked in a low voice. Soft palms traveled down Jean’s chest and abdomen, trailing the fine muscles there. Orlando felt Jean tighten under his fingertips. “Or do you like it after all, hmm?”

A meaningless question. Jean had not displayed any aversion whatsoever from the moment of his proposition. He’d been moaning and mewling and squirming around for friction in ways that were less than savory for someone in his position. If anything, Orlando was the hesitant one. His question had been meant to extend one last chance at stopping what seemed like certain madness. And he’d done it out of fear, but not any fear that he could vocalize or even give a name to.

And then Jean’s legs lifted and wrapped around his hips. It was an involuntary reaction, one the King didn’t even seem to notice. Orlando did, though. The full strength of Jean’s hardness pressed flush against his own cock. 

He sucked in a breath he couldn’t mask before forcefully shoving Jean’s legs back onto the bed. His eyes had widened to the size of saucers.

Jean panted beneath him. “I’m...not stopping.” His face was flushed and the front of his pants had stained with come, but his voice was resolute. “I don’t revoke my demands.”

Orlando smiled despite the growing anxiety in his gut. “Of course you don’t.” Because you’re an idiot. He proceeded to lick his way down Jean’s throat, trailing over his chest, softly biting his nipples, and pretending not to hear the King’s effeminate aahh even as breath from the gasp teased his scalp. Orlando shifted to undo the laces of Jean’s breeches. His cock ached. The King cleared his throat, seeming suddenly agitated.

“So how do we do this?” The King’s voice was hoarse like he’d been parched for days.

Orlando cocked a perfect eyebrow, playing coy to the inquiry. “Do what?” His fingertips brushed the skin directly above Jean’s waistband.

“The sex.” Shameless.

Orlando had to try very hard to subjugate his brows back into their relaxed state. His fingers curled around the waistband of Jean’s breeches, grabbed onto the cloth and yanked -- probably with more force than was necessary. Jean’s full length popped out of his pants.

“You still insist on it?” Orlando’s breath left him all at once, looking appraisingly over the fully exposed, hard cock standing tall just inches from his fingers. He’d expected Jean to be on the thicker side, but not quite this well-endowed. He licked his lips.

Jean’s face flushed noticing Orlando’s gaze. “You get naked too. I don’t want to be the only one.”

“If you insist.” Orlando had no problems with that. He knew what he looked like under all the fabric and decoration. Even after admiring the King for his looks all evening, Orlando was well aware that his own body did not fall short. If anything, the two men were individually admired for contrasting reasons. Jean was tan, very masculine, powerful in the more classical sense; Orlando lean and pale and beautiful like a pre-raphaelite painting.

He climbed off the bed, dragging his fingertips down along Jean’s front, dancing them softly over his straining erection. Jean huffed and his nostrils flared indignantly, but it was a subdued reaction and it very much amused the Earl.

Orlando began to undress without making a demonstration of it, but soon became aware that Jean was looking at him and that his gaze was very particular. Once he’d gotten his boots off, Orlando turned to look over his shoulder and give a cocky smirk.  
“Shall I make a show of it?” he sneered, digging his thumbs behind his waistband and arching his back. “I don’t mind, if you’re not eager to get on with it.”

Jean’s cheeks seemed to redden. “Do it quickly,” he said, after a slight pause. Then, he averted his eyes. “I’m just curious about what it looks like.”

Orlando pulled his pants down over the jut of his hip bones and this time gave a particularly big smile to mask his own fluster. “Really? Well, as always -- your wish is my command.”

He gave a dramatic bow and actually did remove his pants with more theatricality than necessary. Jean seemed embarrassed by his own gaze, but not once turned to look elsewhere. Once Orlando had been stripped and stood there fully naked he seemed to struggle for words, however. 

“An ecstatic response!” declared Orlando, and stalked over to his dresser to look for supplies.

Jean seemed to realize how he’d come across and attempted to remedy himself. “Um,” he forced out. “I don’t know how to say this.”

Orlando did not have high expectations. It would have been truly surprising if the King had ever seen a naked male body that was not his own. Probably did not understand how to appreciate one, in the ways that Orlando did. He found the bottle of lube next to his undergarments, half-empty but still holding a good amount.

“It’s too bad my hands are tied,” Jean said, and his voice was almost frightened. “Because I really want to touch myself right now.”

The exterior of the bottle must have had traces of its contents because it slipped right out of Orlando’s hand and back into the drawer with a loud noise. He turned around to look at the King.

“Isn’t this the part where you normally say: “you’re so sexy, my honey!” said Orlando and did a mocking impersonation. It fell short to his own ears, however, because his entire face was burning. 

Jean blinked at him. “Something like that,” he responded dryly.

Wishing to dissolve the tension, or turn it in his favor, Orlando grabbed the bottle of lubricant and walked back to the bed. Jean seemed a little restless, but otherwise stayed still and silent, acknowledging that Orlando was in the lead, and all he could do was wait for his next move.

Orlando soon delivered on that when he climbed into bed and ran his right hand up Jean’s left thigh, before grabbing a solid handful of his erection, and bringing himself down to eye level with it.

“You’re so thick and pretty,” Orlando crooned, switching to a tone strictly reserved for the bedroom. Jean’s immediate blush and the corresponding facial reaction that followed were so uncontrolled they made the Earl chuckle.

Orlando gave his cock a languid stroke. “What should I do now?” he purred, looking up at Jean as he stroked him. This was his game. Even if the situation happened to be slightly unordinary, Orlando knew very well what he was doing, and was pleased to be the better composed of the two of them.

He brought his face closer, enough to breathe the scent of him. He parted his lips to mouth at Jean’s cock, running his lower lip up across the side. Giving the head an open-mouthed kiss. Teasing it like the neck of a lover. Jean closed his eyes, the heat of Orlando’s mouth so near his hardness that it was close to torture.

“No,” Orlando whispered around Jean’s cock, a rough edge to his quiet voice. “Open your eyes. Don’t take them off me.”

Those red eyes opened again, burning right into his amethyst ones. Orlando ran his hand across Jean’s abdomen. “Good boy,” he said, and dipped down.

Pale lips closed tight around the head of the King’s cock as Orlando sucked it into his mouth. Immediately swallowing almost half the length, Orlando dug his fingers into Jean’s hips. He put his tongue into use against the underside of the cock and let it slide upwards along the shaft. Jean groaned, his hips rising slightly. There was a very telling twitch and a little bit of come released into Orlando’s mouth.

With practiced ease, he lavished attentions on the slit of Jean’s cock, tonguing it expertly. Brought him into his mouth again. Used his tongue to caress a big vein jutting up along the shaft like a bolt of lightning. This time when Jean’s hips bucked, Orlando had to physically hold him down to avoid getting choked. 

“That’s not particularly polite, is it?” A warning squeeze to Jean’s hips. Narrowed eyes, a meaningful look. “Don’t move.”

Slowly, carefully, Orlando took Jean into his mouth again, swallowing him like it was the last thing he would ever do. His hands clung to Jean’s hips, thumbs dug into the two very attractive dimples that marked the skin there. The King had fallen quiet, didn’t even breathe, didn’t pretend to.

Jean was big. Even at an excruciatingly slow speed and with this much attention to safety, Orlando felt the strain. Tears blurred his vision and he felt Jean’s cock in the back of his throat, but he wasn’t quite there yet. He wondered if his jaw might split.

Orlando finally began to sympathize with the wenches and their explicit complaints passed between one another when they thought no one was around to hear. 

A part of him wasn’t sure why it was necessary to put on such a show for an already highly experienced man. But another part of him understood well that pleasure wasn’t the only thing on his agenda tonight.

Oh yes, Orlando thought, as he buried his nose into the coarse hair at the base of Jean’s cock, he’ll take no other men after this.

Jean shouted and his cock twitched again in the Earl’s mouth. His mouth fell open and red bloomed prettily across his cheeks.

“Holy shit,” he panted. “Not anyone can do that.”

Orlando inhaled him in, Jean’s scent filling his senses. He began to move, sucking up and down again, although not going as deep again for his own comfort. But it didn’t seem to matter. Jean was mewling, sputtering nonsense, shouting a litany of Orlando’s name. He was struggling against his restraints.

“God, Orlando,” Jean breathed. “So good. You’re so good.”

Orlando had to refrain from smirking. Foolish man, you’re the closest thing to God down here. Jean’s hips began lifting again, and this time Orlando let Jean fuck himself into his mouth without inhibitions. Welcomed the eased strain on his neck. Jean’s thrusts were frantic and powerful but hardly suffocating. His thighs were quivering, whether it was out of exertion or pleasure, the Earl couldn’t say.

The expression on Jean’s face was absolutely divine, and could have easily inspired a religious following. Not that it entirely made sense for Orlando to feel this way. But that was a whole other issue he wasn’t ready to address yet.

If only it weren’t for the pressure of his own cock pushing into the mattress, and his growing need for release, Orlando might have let Jean get off. Instead he waited patiently until Jean’s breathing and erratic movement began to indicate an approaching orgasm. Then he abandoned Jean’s cock with a lewd pop.

Jean actually whined, high-pitched and needy. “No, no, don’t stop...” 

Orlando was grateful for the restraints, because surely Jean would have grabbed him then. The way he thrashed against the bed was more telling than his innocuous whine.

Orlando positioned himself above the King, straddling Jean’s hips. “You’re being very disgraceful, Your Majesty.” His voice hadn’t slipped from its soft sensual tone. To his own ears it sounded a bit strange to talk this way, but he’d rarely been above anything that made his partners respond in bed. And Jean was responding to the voice, one hundred percent.

He let his fingers run through Jean’s spiky hair and latch onto the longer hairs at his nape. In a rush of lust and recklessness, Orlando shifted his hips, grinding their hard cocks against each other, finally on the receiving end of some friction.

Jean hissed and growled, but he was absolutely powerless against Orlando’s will. The latter looked at the King with mock pity.

“I’ve been nothing but exceptionally kind to you tonight, Your Majesty,” Orlando crooned, lowering his voice. “But we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

He sat up on his knees, pushing his pelvis forward until he could feel Jean’s warm, escalated breath on the tip of his cock.

If he was being completely honest, Orlando didn’t know what possessed him. Ever since Jean’s proposal earlier that day, he’d been feeling...something. A strange sense of superiority, perhaps. Which wasn’t unusual when it came to his relationship with Jean: the King was reckless and impulsive, barely considered his actions, rarely doubted his decisions; Orlando was the cloth that wiped after the mouth had spat.

Ah, that must be it, Orlando realized with a jolt. When Jean had come to him earlier, did he come with the knowledge of the position he was putting Orlando in?

Orlando’s expression went stern.

“Suck,” he demanded, forcing his best authoritative voice and pushing past Jean’s parted lips without waiting for a reaction. “I’m going to prepare. Mind your teeth.” A strong look to get his point across. “Seriously. If you as much as nick me, I’ll leave you tied to the bed.”

Jean’s confusion dissipated quickly. He was very eager to return the favor. Orlando knew he probably should have felt bad for snapping at him, but really, which one of them had more right to be angry? 

Damage control. Orlando had for a very long time filled that function for Jean. Who else could he have gone to?

Squirting a generous amount of lube into his hand, reaching behind himself and spreading himself open, Orlando looked at Jean. Looked at his own cock going in and out of Jean’s mouth. Looked at Jean enthusiastically trying to do his best despite the lack of experience, the way his eyes fell shut and how his nostrils flared. How he inhaled and exhaled and groaned. How his fists balled up against the ropes grounding his wrists.

If it got out of the castle that the King was keeping a male lover, that’d be the end of it. Niflheim didn’t have laws against homosexuality, but many of their dead still kept to their earthly beliefs and prejudice. 

Luckily Orlando was obligated to keep such information from leaking to the public, had been known to keep his silence on far more delicate matters. And Orlando knew what people said when they talked about him in private. How they speculated about his preferences. What kind of stories they told.

Finally setting into a decent rhythm, Jean pulled a sigh from Orlando’s lips. His hips came dangerously close to thrusting forward. Jean’s dicksucking was average at best, more or less satisfactory for a beginner, and there wasn’t any reason it should have elicited such a strong reaction from him. And yet Orlando found that even something as simple as spreading himself was taking a deal more focus than normally.

“Yes, that’s good,” he breathed. “Keep going.” 

Understandably, Jean couldn’t exactly voice his protests, but Orlando was inclined to think he’d have few if any at all. Jean was doing well enough that Orlando’s cock didn’t soften even as three of his fingers pushed inside his ass. When his breath hitched, Jean’s voice vibrated against his cock.

“Mmmm?” said Jean, and did he appear concerned?

“Almost done,” Orlando gasped. “Don’t stop.” 

His free hand ran through Jean’s hair, pressed to grab on and yank him closer. It would have been nice to undo the ropes, to feel Jean’s hands on his body, his fingers digging into skin. To be held and caressed and then treated just a bit roughly.

“Oh, fuuuck.” But he also recognized the look in Jean’s eyes, and Orlando wasn’t sure he could fully restrain Jean after unleashing him. It was infinitely better to stay on top of the situation, even if it meant the sacrifice of a fantasy or two. Orlando whined, it was high-pitched and entirely too needy, and he knew it was time to escalate the situation.

“Please,” Jean rasped as soon as his mouth was empty. “Do something, Orlando. I can’t...like this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he allowed, shifting and turning, grabbing Jean’s cock and trickling lube onto the shaft. The liquid was thick and slippery and cold, and it made Jean gasp. Only when Orlando took a breath and began to lower himself onto Jean did the King put two and two together.

“Stop squirming,” Orlando said calmly.

“What are you doing??” Jean was clearly agitated, and Orlando had a hard time registering anything except the slick tip of a cock pushing at his entrance. His ass was open and throbbing and ready. Jean’s struggle was irritating, and Orlando made sure his voice reflected that.

“Well, if you must ask, this entire time I was under the assumption we were going to fuck.”

Jean paled. “Like that?”

Orlando cocked an eyebrow. He could have almost laughed; he would have, if the incredulous-beyond-belief expression on Jean’s face didn’t tell him everything he needed to know.

He sighed, already mourning the loss of his fading arousal.

“So you’ve never-” he was cut off before he could finish that sentence. Jean shook his head with a frown.

Well, shit. This came as a shock. “You mean, none of the women ever wanted to-”

Jean groaned and looked away. “I mean, yeah, sometimes, but I never- I just figured they were like, joking.”

Orlando slouched in resignation. “So, you thought that was it? We suck each other off and then it’s done?” That didn’t sit well with Orlando, because not only didn’t it make sense for Jean to initiate sex without expecting anal, he wouldn’t even had any reason to ask Orlando to sleep with him in the first place. Just what is going on, here?

On top of that, Jean’s cock was still rock hard against his ass.

It’s not that he didn’t understand hesitation. Even if he wasn’t so fond of getting his ass fucked, Orlando would never have asked Jean to bottom for his first time, because he knew first-hand how scary it can be even with an experienced partner. What he hadn’t thought about was that topping, if you’ve never done it before, can be nerve-wracking. He never imagined that a sexually experienced man like Jean would get anxious.

Jean swallowed, still looking anywhere but at Orlando. “I don’t know. I, uh- I guess I thought it would be different.”

“It normally is,” Orlando said slowly, staring into Jean’s face as if trying to decipher his expression. He shifted against Jean’s pelvis to bring the latter’s dick more firmly against his ass. “It still could be,” he added meaningfully.

Jean’s face flushed dark enough to match the red of his irises, and Orlando understood.

“What are you doing?” Nervousness crept into Jean’s voice when Orlando shifted away from him. The next sensation bloomed on his wrist when Orlando’s fingers brushed against it.

“I’m removing the restraints,” replied Orlando, without a hint of expression. He’d come to the decision as soon as the first hint of nervousness had crept through Jean’s cool facade, and berated himself for ever assuming confidence where there shouldn’t -- couldn’t -- have been any.

“Wait, why? We’re not done yet?” It wasn’t a statement, but a question. A fearful one. Jean’s left wrist came loose, then the right one, but he didn’t lift his hands, didn’t even budge. Orlando’s eyes softened. The fact that Jean would have gladly surrendered any and all control just to be with Orlando this way spoke volumes for him.

“That’s up to you,” he said. “But if we’re going to fuck, I want you to be able to move yourself, and not feel like you’re being held at my mercy.” Orlando sighed and paused to caress the swell of muscle in Jean’s arm. “It was unwarranted to assume I’d be dealing with an experienced partner and I shouldn’t have suggested to use the ropes in the first place.”

Jean shook lightly as Orlando’s fingers trailed goosebumps down his arm. His eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere except at the Earl, contemplating his words. 

“I kinda wanna do it.” He groaned, pausing for a breath. “No, I really, really wanna do it.” For a moment it seemed as if he might say something else, like he wanted to say more. His mouth opened and tongue darted out to wet his lips. But words didn’t follow. Silently, Jean brought his newly freed hands to Orlando’s hips, fingers gripping and thumbs dipping into his pale skin. Red eyes, now focused directly on the Earl, glistened with intent.

Orlando bent down to press his lips against Jean’s, and the kiss he received in return was gentle and sweet, not at all like their first one. His King’s lips parted with ease, languidly enveloping him, licking softly into the heat of his mouth. Orlando could barely believe the scope of the intimacy that he and Jean could share; found it difficult to admit that the premise for it had been there all along. Lying dormant for years, maybe, but always there.

This time Jean had bared his neck and explicitly agreed to let Orlando take the lead as the experienced party. He didn’t have to say it for Orlando to know. And Orlando didn’t have to say anything back, but he felt compelled to.

“Don’t worry about this,” he whispered, sounding a bit more like himself again. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you feel good.”

Jean’s breath ghosted hotly over his face and they kissed again, with Jean’s hands sliding up Orlando’s sides. “I know,” he said quietly, but with conviction. “I trust you.”

Orlando’s stomach lurched with some misplaced emotion. Jean’s eyes seemed a little like they had earlier, eager and tender, and gave him pause. He didn’t fully understand why he’d gone so soft over Jean’s nervousness, didn’t understand why he’d reacted the way he did. Why he wanted to kiss him so sweetly.

Maybe it was the realization that dawned on him after Jean’s confession. When Jean said he’d never even considered having anal sex with him, admitted to not even knowing it was a thing people actually did. Orlando had perceived his demand as desire to safely experiment with the same sex, but that hadn’t been the case at all. Orlando felt impossibly ridiculous.

Jean was interested in him. That had simply been his way of breaching the subject.

Orlando’s lips sealed around what would have been Jean’s pulse point, and he sucked the skin into his mouth, biting gently. Jean’s breath hitched, his hands reached around to cup Orlando’s ass, fingers pressing into the muscle. Reacting to the touch and its implications, Orlando brought his mouth to Jean’s ear.

“You’re ready, Jean.” It wasn’t a question.

The grip on his ass strengthened. “Yeah,” came the strained answer.

With slender fingers, Orlando guided Jean’s cock to his entrance, feeling the anticipation fill him up until he could scarcely breathe. He looked to Jean’s eyes for any sign of hesitation or aversion, but all he found reflected in the King’s red irises was his own glazed desire.

Keeping his eyes locked with Jean, Orlando began to sink lower, grunting as the head of Jean’s cock slid inside his ass, gasping as the next inch followed without pause. Jean’s hands migrated to his waist, squeezing hard, as his own body reacted to the movement as well.

“Orlando,” Jean gaped. “Christ, Orlando, you’re- aw, fuck...that’s so tight.”

The Earl threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, proceeding despite the burning sensation of pain. Because that’s all it was - a sensation. In the realm of the dead, sensations were only echoes of their past lives, acute memories of things they might have experienced during their lifetime. None of it was real, Orlando told himself. Pain didn’t have any physical consequences. He had to keep reminding himself that Jean’s cock wasn’t going to damage him in any way, no matter how loudly his gut urged him to slow down.

Jean’s hand brushed against Orlando’s hair at his lower back, then shot higher, grabbing the latter’s neck and pulling him down for a bruising kiss. Orlando gasped into his open mouth, voice pained enough to make Jean pull back and look at him.

“You’re in pain,” he said.

“I’m fine,” snapped Orlando. He wasn’t about to grace Jean with the admission that his cock was by far the biggest he’d ever taken, and that it was proving a great deal more difficult than he initially imagined.

Instead he buried his face into the crook of Jean’s neck, and let Jean’s arms wrap around his back, embracing Orlando to his chest. He was about half-way inside, and Orlando’s entire lower half was on fire, but the sounds of Jean’s grunts were a better motivator than anything else at that moment could possibly have been. 

Orlando panted against Jean’s neck, an old urge resurfacing. “Bite me,” he rasped, mouth so close to Jean’s throat that he feared his voice hadn’t been clear enough. He was about to repeat himself when a sharp pain in his trapezoid made Orlando release a very undignified cry. 

Simultaneously two very different, yet complementary sensations overwhelmed his senses, pleasure mingling with pain. Jean’s teeth sank into his skin like he’d meant to draw blood. Orlando choked on a sob. He let out a long, shrill cry.

“Yes, yes-” Jean’s cock pulsed, plunged deep inside of him, and Orlando realized he’d taken its whole length. His ass sat flush against Jean’s hip.

Jean’s left hand reached down to touch where the two of them were joined together. His breath hitched. Orlando could vaguely feel a finger circling his slickened rim. Jean’s finger. And Jean’s cock inside of him. The notion was dizzying, the reality of it but a doubt.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” breathed Jean. “I didn’t think it would all-”

“Oh, be quiet,” said Orlando, without any real malice. Then, as an afterthought, “you bit me really fucking hard.” When he reached to touch the bite on his shoulder, Orlando’s skin stung beneath cold fingers.

“Sorry,” Jean apologized, going red in the face. “I got kind of excited. Didn’t expect you to like that sort of thing.”

Orlando shook his head. “I’m not berating you. It was good.” Didn’t expect me to…? After a breath to gather himself and definitely not think about the King’s expectations for him, Orlando raised his eyes to meet Jean’s again. His hair fell around the two of them like a long wavy curtain.

“Was that okay so far? Feeling weird at all?”

A strangled laugh bubbled from Jean’s throat. His red eyes were pools of barely restrained desire. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s asking.”

The Earl raised an eyebrow. “Of course I’m the one asking. From your earlier proposal I assumed you knew I had experience here.” Jean’s lips twisted into a frown as Orlando spoke. “Your concern is practically unwarranted.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jean admitted. “I just don’t wanna think about it.”

Now it was Orlando’s turn to laugh. He rocked his hips, moving himself around Jean. “Are you hearing yourself right now? You would willingly put yourself into situations which you’d rather not think about? Perhaps Your Majesty has masochistic inclinations.” Orlando’s movement tore a breathy moan from Jean’s lips, and brought a fresh flush to his cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant,” he spat, looking more like an indignant child than the omnipotent ruler of a realm. “D-do that again, though.”

Orlando sneered. “Do what, now?” His fingers found their way to the King’s chest, scraping against the fine hairs there. “Can I hear you say it?”

“Ungh,” Jean grunted. Judging from his facial expression, already too lost for comprehension. Somehow his already red visage managed to darken even further. “Ride me,” he sputtered. “Please, Orlando.”

Jean’s voice, like his techniques in bed, must have been greatly polished over the years. With just the right timbre and a calculated heat, his ridiculous, strangely erotic voice must have seduced hundreds of women before Orlando even arrived at the castle. Yet he couldn’t help pausing when he heard that same voice come out of Jean’s mouth, his deceitful gut twisting and trying to convince Orlando that it was all for him.

He lifted himself by several inches, feeling Jean’s cock slide back out of him. It still didn’t feel great, but it was not going to get any worse. After rising just a few inches, Orlando let himself sink down again. He repeated this action a couple of times, getting a renewed feel for Jean’s length and girth. Then he moved up high enough that Jean nearly slipped out of him, only to plunge back down at the last moment.

Jean hissed and grunted, but didn’t say anything. His hands had settled onto Orlando’s waist and followed the movements of the Earl’s body as he settled into a more steady rhythm, rocking himself up and down on Jean’s cock. Orlando’s mouth fell open as his breathing quickened.

“Here,” he said, lifting Jean’s right hand off the bed, urging the man’s fingers to wrap around his neglected cock. “Touch me.” 

When Jean’s heavy-lidded expression turned to that of wary hesitation, Orlando gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Just do what feels good to you.”

There was a surprising thrill to having Jean’s hand tight on his cock, bringing him closer to that desired edge. The more his thought lingered on it, the higher it made him feel. Orlando had never directly fantasized about finding himself in this situation, but it still somehow managed to feel like a great payoff.

As Jean’s hand pumped his erection, Orlando’s moans mixed with the rough noises of the King. Each frantic thrust Orlando made on Jean’s cock was now met with a snap of the latter’s hips. Jean’s hard cock reached even deeper inside of him, making Orlando sound absolutely obscene, until it finally hit that certain hidden spot.

For a second, Orlando’s vision turned white. He distantly registered a scream that might have been his, but he didn’t know this for a certainty. His pale fingers raked across Jean’s chest, leaving angry red trails in their wake.

“Damn, Orlando,” Jean’s panting voice became strangled. “You...alright?”

The Earl wheezed. “Yes, fine. Just...give me a-”

If only he could feel that again. He absolutely had to. Orlando brought his hands behind himself on the bed, supporting his weight back against them. When Jean thrust into him again, he hit Orlando’s prostate head-on.

“Oh yes, fuck yes,” Orlando cried. “Keep doing that.” 

Jean pounded upwards into him, sometimes missing, but still hitting that good spot enough that Orlando could feel his mind going hazy. He heard Jean’s constant unending whisper of his own name, and knew that he was being vocally responsive but had no control over what left his mouth. Eventually Jean’s upward thrusting became so aggressive that Orlando’s voice became one long stretched out cry.

“Fuck,” panted Jean, “I’m sorry.” And then Orlando was on his back, Jean bent over him. The Earl’s pale legs were hoisted over Jean’s back, and the latter was fucking into him like his life depended on it. And worst of all was that Orlando didn’t even feel mad about being wrenched on his back like that, because any control he had had been surrendered a while ago. All he could do was lay there on his back and take Jean’s cock and cry.

“Ah,” moaned Jean and began to tremble. “I don’t-”

The choke in Jean’s voice was all too familiar. Orlando started to feel dizzy. “Don’t you dare!” he rasped, feeling homicidal. “Jean, don’t come!” But Jean’s body was tensing and Orlando knew he was probably too close to stave off his orgasm now. 

“Jean!” he cried, and the hand around his cock tightened. With the last of his strength and what he still had left of his mind, Jean worked him to near completion. Although just as Orlando was about to fall over the edge, Jean stilled completely. With a silent shout, he came, spilling into Orlando.

Having accepted his fate, Orlando quickly jerked himself to completion, finishing after just a few good strokes. Jean fell to lay on his back, pupils blown wide, his entire body flushed with color. His cock had softened. It took Orlando a few good minutes before he was ready to think again and assess the damage.

“I’ll get a towel,” he murmured, getting off the bed, and walked off, bare feet cold against the floor. When he returned, Jean was looking much the same as when he’d left, with the difference of having sat up and propped himself on his elbow. Orlando threw him the towel.

Jean looked like he might say something. Eventually he did use the towel to wipe himself down, but after he had finished, he chucked the towel away like it offended him.

“Do you want to pick that up?” grumbled Orlando, lips pulling into a thin line.

Jean looked at him. “No, I don’t.”

A distant part of Orlando’s brain that was still alert and responding told him that he ought to get angry. When Jean patted the mattress beside him, that part of his brain turned off too. He approached the bed and let himself be pulled down. The bedroom smelled of sex and sweat and roses.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Orlando, after allowing the silence to stretch out. Truthfully, he didn’t think he was ready to have this conversation yet, but the thoughtful expression on Jean’s face begged to be addressed. 

Jean stared at the ceiling, his hand absently brushing Orlando’s hair. He gave a nod. “Yeah.”


End file.
